


The Next Stage

by oneawkwardcookie



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Ficlet, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mentioned Christopher Diaz, Mentioned Shannon Diaz, One Shot, POV Evan "Buck" Buckley, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:54:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27705163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneawkwardcookie/pseuds/oneawkwardcookie
Summary: There are some things that Eddie's never spoken about - that he's not sure he should or could - but grief is a tricky thing to handle alone, especially when he'snotalone.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 64





	The Next Stage

**Author's Note:**

> This started life with me thinking about how super cute it would be for Buck to see Eddie put Chris to bed (based on [this tumblr post](https://gayarsonist.tumblr.com/post/180597400338/character-falls-asleep-in-a-chair-or-at-a-desk)), and became a discussion on grief and relationships…

The latch clicks and there’s already a grin on his face as the door swings open. He strides into Eddie's house, about to yell out a greeting, but is instead left silently agape by the wide-eyed expression on Eddie's face.

Eddie’s standing in the middle of the living room, cradling a sleeping Chris in his arms. Once he can look past the juxtaposition of the strength of Eddie's arms, and the gentle grip around Chris' arms and legs, he notices the tears streaked across Chris' face.

He closes his mouth and lifts a hand to wave himself out, suddenly worried again about intruding, but Eddie pins him to the spot with a heavy look that asks him to wait.

So, he does.

He pulls open a kitchen cupboard door, scanning the visible containers before rummaging with one arm towards the back to get to the box of the nice tea bags that he bought last time, despite Eddie insisting that he didn’t need anything that fancy. He pulls the box out, taking one tea bag out and placing the box nearer to the front, grabbing one of the normal ones as well before he shuts the cupboard.

Eddie returns and collapses into a seat at the dining room table, and he gently places a coaster on the wooden table, setting a mug down in front of Eddie's propped up elbows. He pulls the chair round and settles into it with his own cup of tea.

“Was it school?” Eddie hadn't mentioned any further incidents, but a new school year could mean new kids, who only became less kind as they got older. Whilst Chris is tough, he still holds an optimism and cheeriness that makes Buck worry about how the world will treat him.

Eddie just shakes his head, so he pulls Eddie into his side, sighing at the same time as Eddie drops his head onto Buck's shoulder.

“Shannon.” Eddie tenses against him, and he feels rather than sees the fight or flight that courses through the body pressed against him.

“You don't want to hear it.” There's steel to Eddie’s voice but it's laced with gunpowder. It seeps into the cracks until he's brittle.

They're past the gentle coaxing and the tentative avoiding, so he just says, “he must miss her.”

“He does.” Eddie shifts his head round, an ear on Chris’ room, who sleeps on silently.

“Do you?”

Eddie lifts his head up, eyes guarded and teeth slowly twisting away at the edge of his bottom lip.

“The people you lose never really leave you, but it's alright. It's normal; healthy even. You don't need to fight it.” There’s so much more he could say, but that’s never been the way to get Eddie to believe anything, so he resists the urge to pull free that bitten lip and ask Eddie to talk to him, and lets the silence lay down the offer instead.

“No more fighting, Buck.” It's a hollow deflection, so he doesn’t grace it with a response; just takes a sip of his drink and waits.

“It was easier to be angrier.” The words are carefully placed, stepping-stones on a path that Eddie’s still building as he goes along. “To feel… hurt.” Eddie places both hands around the mug and leans in to blow on the tea, wrinkling his nose for a second before looking up at him. He just shrugs his eyebrows in response, allowing a small smile to escape when Eddie takes two sips in quick succession, his eyebrows quirking up in a brief motion of silent appreciation before the frown returns.

“Chris never had that, or at least I don’t think he feels that way. But I remember. I remember so much…and that includes the good bits too.” The mug is set down a little too heavily, and Eddie’s hands curl loosely on the table, fingers rubbing together lightly.

The pause stretches out, so he finally responds. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Maybe talking about that will help Chris. Maybe it’ll help both of you.”

“I’m sure it’ll help Chris, but what about us?” Though Eddie’s mouth is a taut curved bow, the words loosed aren’t arrows, but the rumbling beginnings of a landslide. How long has he been holding this back, dealing with the mountain of his grief alone? 

“Eddie, how long have I known you? You think I don’t already _know_?” Some of the tension drains out of Eddie’s shoulders, and he takes that as a cue to reach over, slotting his fingers between Eddie’s and rubbing a thumb along the side of his hand until the tremor lessens.

“Buck, it’s not the same and you know it.” He’s too measured as he speaks, a stillness that makes his own restless energy even more obvious.

“It’s not but it doesn’t _matter_ to me. It’s part of you so it’s a part of us.” He doesn’t realise how hard he’s squeezing Eddie’s hand until Eddie squeezes back, so much that it should hurt, but it doesn’t.

“You never talk about…anyone else.”

_Oh._

He didn’t think he needed to, not when Eddie had a front row seat to the aftermath of Abby, and the entirety of Ali, and the intervening interjections of Taylor. They’d not spoken about them, but Eddie knew. He was there for all of it, through their earlier push and pull, and the things left unsaid.

“It’s not a competition, and there’s nothing to say about any of them. If I did, you’d listen, right? Without judging, or assuming it meant I didn’t – that it meant we were any less?”

“Of course.” The conviction in Eddie’s voice makes his heart ache, for how much faith Eddie has in him, but also for how it still isn’t fully directed back at himself.

“Then you can do the same.”

Eddie opens his mouth, looking towards Chris’ room again, and then back at him.

“Now, if you want to?”

Eddie just shakes his head slowly, though the frown isn’t there anymore, eyes pinned on where their hands are joined.

When he finally looks up, there’s such a softness in Eddie’s eyes that he nearly misses what he says.

“What did I do to deserve you?”

In the face of such naked appreciation, he has to compose himself for a moment, and then another moment longer when Eddie brings his hands to his lips, pressing a tentative smile against his knuckles.

“You just did what you always do. That's more than enough for me.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!


End file.
